


places that won't know my name.

by submersive



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M, Sick Kageyama Tobio
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:40:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28283343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/submersive/pseuds/submersive
Summary: Miyagi 2012.
Relationships: Kageyama Tobio/Oikawa Tooru
Comments: 28
Kudos: 147





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> To the insidious [Martylagfer](https://twitter.com/martylagfer) who threw the idea out and kept going at it until it burrowed into my brain. Just for the record, I am _still_ in writer's block limbo. D:

There are three particular moments in Tobio’s life that he can say changed him; moments that he’s sure pivoted his future and rippled to everything that he’s done and he’ll do. Moments that will affect every choice he will ever make from that point onwards.

He thinks about holding his grandfather’s hand and feeling it grow slack, followed by the loud ringing of machines surrounding them, followed by the thunderous footsteps of nurses flocking in and gently pulling him away.

He thinks about a ball, almost floating in the air, before gravity took its toll and left a rift between him and his friends; of having to make a conscious choice to decline an invite for a school that would’ve given him a team that made it easier for him to chase his dreams.

His grandfather’s passing took a piece out of Tobio that he thinks he will never get back.

Kitagawa Daiichi pinned his knees to the ground then demanded he stand up.

Now he thinks about this:

Sitting across a doctor with papers and photos strewn on the table between them, Takeda-sensei looking pale as the doctor enumerated the possibilities, the risks... what Tobio may or may not have; and how he will need to have one more test before all is set.

Before everything will or will not change.

If his bruises from his squabble with Hinata a night four weeks ago would change his course yet again; perhaps more permanently this time.

A week ago, the bruises had been nothing but what they were: bruises from a fight. They were just bruises until Coach Ukai and Takeda-sensei stopped him as he was heading out of the gym one Friday morning, Hinata already having taken off into a run to try and cheat Tobio off of their usual race.

Now, after the insistence of his coach and his teacher to get him checked up, they are no longer just bruises - they are symptoms.

Of what, Tobio doesn’t know yet.

Thinks maybe he doesn’t want to know.

Thinks maybe it’s better to let sleeping dogs lie; doesn’t want to know why it’s been four weeks and the mottled purple and green are only just now fading, doesn’t want to know why his nose had been bleeding in the last couple of months more than they had for his entire life.

Tobio doesn’t recall most of what took place in the doctor’s office afterwards, just that there’s Takeda-sensei’s hand on his shoulder, leading him onward and how suddenly there’s the blinding lights of the waiting area silhouetting Coach Ukai as he approaches them, face turning grim when he happens to glance at whatever expression Tobio’s teacher has on.

He doesn’t remember making his way to Coach Ukai’s pick up, the one with _Sakanoshita_ on its doors that they used to cart themselves to the nearest hospital from Miyagi that would be able to provide the tests that the first doctor recommended he take just five days prior after Takeda-sensei and Coach Ukai insisted he get checked up.

There’s sweat on his brows that’s stinging his eyes; summer this year has been sweltering, the heat cloying and sticking their clothes to their skin, but Tobio feels cold as he climbs up the truck, sandwiched between his superiors.

An hour later, they make it to his home. Tobio doesn’t remember dropping by a store midway, but they must have because his coach is making Tobio dinner in Tobio’s kitchen even if Tobio hadn’t had a chance to buy groceries just yet and Takeda-sensei is now sitting on the chair that Tobio’s grandfather used to sit on when they watched volleyball videos together.

Tobio doesn’t remember the last time anyone had been in his house aside from him.

He’s tired in a way he hasn’t been. His arm still has a gauze from where he was pricked and prodded two days ago. He thinks they might still be bleeding sluggishly even if these should’ve healed by now. Drawing a breath seems such a task.

His teacher is talking to him but he doesn’t really understand until he hears something about Takeda-sensei calling his sister to ask her to come back to Miyagi, and Tobio jolts.

“ _Don’t_ ,” he snaps, voice scratchy from disuse. _Not Miwa_ , he thinks.

Because if they’re going to call Miwa in - if Miwa comes _back_ and realises that Tobio may or may not be sick, then Miwa’s going to _stop him_ from playing volleyball and that’s not… that’s not something Tobio wants to happen. That’s not something Tobio can risk. Volleyball is _everything_ to him and if his body is failing him, then he would rather have it fail him in court _trying_ his best than on some bed like his grandfa—

“Kageyama-kun,” Takeda-sensei says apologetically, pulling off his glasses before pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry, but I’ll have to let her know.”

“ _No_ ,” Tobio grits out, curling his hands into fists on his lap. “You don’t have to tell her anything. I _know_ she signed my guardianship to you, sensei.”

“Yes, but that’s only in school,” Coach Ukai explains, appearing from the kitchen and placing bowls of dumpling soup in front of Tobio and Takeda-sensei before making his way back and forth between Tobio’s kitchen and dining table until there are three bowls and glasses in front of them and a pitcher of water in the middle. “For school activities, Kageyama. This is something else.”

“How?” Tobio asks, his voice rising. He can feel his heart beating so loudly in his chest that it almost hurt. He can hear his pulse banging in his ears, the loud _thump thump thump_ drowning everything else out. “How is it something else? It’s nothing. It’s not even sure yet. The doctor said might.”

Takeda-sensei looks away from him seemingly lost for words, and when he remains quiet, it’s the coach who sits on the empty chair next to Tobio and waits for him to turn until they can look each other in the eye.

“Tobio,” Coach Ukai starts, clearing his throat as he leans forward and rests an elbow on the table just next to the steaming bowl of soup. “I’m sure she would like to know how you’re doing, and I’m sure you’ll want family beside you when you take the last test. You know we _need_ you in Karasuno, but a good volleyball player — a good athlete — would know that health should be top priority.”

“Yes,” Tobio says, gritting his teeth. “I know.”

“Good,” the coach says with a nod before gesturing to the food on the table. “Now, we’re going to eat dinner, then we’re going to call your sister so she can help us out in making sure you’re okay. Then you’re going to sleep and tomorrow, you will sleep in because it’s _the last two weeks_ of your summer vacation and God knows you deserve to sleep through your alarm once in a while. Got it?”

The food tastes delicious and by the last of his third bowl, his eyes were drooping from sleepiness enough that when he tries to help in clearing the table, Coach Ukai waves him away until Tobio’s curled up on the sofa, blearily watching his coach in the kitchen and waiting for his teacher to come back inside from the yard where he assumes he’s calling Miwa from.

Some minutes later, there’s a vague feeling of being lifted. Of him mumbling which door led to his bedroom when someone asked, and of being gently laid to his bed, the person tucking him in before a hand gently pushes his hair away from his face.

In some corner of Tobio’s mind, he can even pretend that the hand belonged to his grandfather.

He misses his grandpa so much.

“Your sister will be here tomorrow morning,” Takeda-sensei’s voice softly calls out as Tobio’s eyelids begin to drift shut once again. “Goodnight, Kageyama-kun. We’ll lock up behind us.”

“Goodnight, Kageyama,” his coach says before the room is bathed in darkness.

He thinks he mumbled a greeting back. He hopes he did, especially since they were here despite not having to be. He makes a note to thank them as soon as he can.

If his sister really will be here the next day, if she doesn’t stop him from playing - then things will be okay. And if things are not okay, then Miwa will fix things because she’s his sister.

She’ll make sure he’s okay.

The thought lulls him into a dreamless sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   * The aim is to end this in 7 or less chapters but this is what I said during '[We'd Light Up Again](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25402684)' and look at what happened.
>   * The subject matter is very _very_ personal to me, so I'm trying so hard to ensure that this wouldn't use a very serious illness just as a plot device, which is why I've been so... I've been trying to wrangle the chapters into submission, lets just say.
>   * It is very likely that the rating and warnings will change, so keep an eye out.
> 



	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some semi-graphic description of pain in this chapter.
> 
>  _i'll try to keep this fic short_ , i say as i deep dive into long winded character introspection. because i'm an idiot.

Miwa arrives the next day with the same fanfare she did when she left, that is to say: to no fanfare at all.

Tobio is still in his pyjamas and clutching his toothbrush when he hears the lock twisting on the front door. He hears a faint “To?” from downstairs where he assumes Miwa’s still trying to toe off her shoes.

“Nee,” he calls out just so Miwa wouldn’t rush up to him before proceeding to brush his teeth. 

It’s still early, barely even eight in the morning and Tobio tries to mentally calculate how early she must have woken up to catch the first  _ Shinkansen _ that will take her to the city centre where she must have taken the bus from there to here, then he quits thinking about it and just makes do with knowing that she must have been traveling before the sun had risen. 

He methodically goes through the motions, rinsing his toothbrush when he’s done before turning the shower on.

He takes his time in rinsing his body, alternating between ignoring and staring at the fading bruises then he scrubs his skin until it feels like it might fall off. He does just about everything he can to reasonably put off seeing his sister but thinks it’s futile so he grabs at his towel and steps out the bathroom.

“You done, Tobio?”

It’s kind of funny, the way her voice makes something in Tobio settle even if he’s aware that Miwa’s the kind of person who will bully him into doing things her way.

_ If she’s here _ , he thinks.  _ Then she’ll make sure everything will be fine _ .

They were close when they were younger, or as close as they can be with the age gap looming between them.

He recalls a time when her very presence made Tobio feel safe. How at times when she wasn’t annoyed at his prying, he’ll take his hand from his grandfather’s when they used to fetch her from practice and she’ll let him hit a few of her sets and vice versa, ruffling his hair afterwards no matter how many times he fumbles his tosses to her, glaring at her team during the one time they laughed at him.

“Yeah,” he says, loud enough for her to hear over the rumbling of pipes as the water drains from the bathroom and what he thinks is the microwave beeping. “I’ll be right down.”

He’s forgotten how it felt like to have someone else in the house.

The first thing he sees when he makes his way downstairs is the duffle bag on the sofa, thrown haphazardly in a way that would make their grandpa sigh at the mess.

Their grandfather used to ask them to discard their bags on the floor because he was fond of neatness and not bringing any dirt from outside as much as he could and Tobio had taken to it, trying to keep the house clean by ensuring he at least wipes all the surfaces before sweeping and mopping the floor and keeping his bag on the floor rather than placing it elsewhere.

The next thing he sees is the small tower of take out boxes on the dining table from the 24 hour ramen stall by the station. He’s grateful that she didn’t just buy from the McDonalds like the last time she thought of bringing food home - sometimes he isn’t sure how Miwa survives on her own in Tokyo. Does she have someone who would cook healthy food for her?

Then, finally, there’s Miwa.

He hasn’t seen her since his birthday last year during her customary visit during her break before disappearing off quickly after new years eve. That year she got him new shoes, a new volleyball, and some trinkets from Tokyo that he adds to his keyrings for his house. At this point, his keyrings are heavier than the three keys dangling off of it but he appreciates them all the same because they’re a slice of her life that Tobio gets to partake in, a slice of her life that Tobio is only peripherally part of.

She doesn’t look older than she did even after months passed, her hair still as long as he recalled it being, almost reaching to her waist - his fingers twitch at the memory of her teaching him how to braid her hair all those years ago so that she’ll have someone do her hair while she does her homework. He wonders if she has someone else to do that for her now or if she braids it herself. Or if she even braids it at all.

Then he kind of shakes himself because why is he even thinking about braiding hair?

She’s still taller than him, just as she had been for all of Tobio’s life. 

“Nee,” he greets when Miwa doesn’t look up from where she was rummaging through the fridge and smelling the carton of milk that Tobio opened two nights ago.

His greeting startles her judging from the sharp intake of breath. She presses a hand against her chest as she swivels to look at him.

In the stark light of the kitchen, she looks just like she did before - except paler and more harried as if she left in a rush before she got here.

“Hey,” Miwa greets back with an awkward smile, but she walks towards him and pulls him close to kiss the top of his head nonetheless. “How are you, otouto-chan?”

She smells of the train, mostly, but underneath that scent is the perfume she’s been using since they were kids - the same one she offhandedly told him their mother used to wear.

She’s warm. Warmer than he’s ever felt for a while.

He doesn’t remember the last time someone folded him into their arms so he indulges just a little bit.

Like this, he is once again a younger brother.

A part of a family.

Like this, he isn’t alone.

*

They make it through breakfast without talking about the reason why she’s here.

They were never fond of small talk, him and Miwa. Tobio can count the number of times any talk over the table didn’t devolve into an argument between them, their grandfather pursing his lips as he tried to stop the squabble that usually ends with Tobio yelling and Miwa stomping away in a huff. Which resulted in them barely talking any more than what was customary.

A greeting here, a shared bit of information there.

He’s never gotten over the idea she blames him for their mother’s death and their father’s departure. She certainly screamed about it at him once during those dining table warfares.

And why shouldn’t she when Tobio got to live through his birth and their mother didn’t?

They make it through clearing the table, and make it through Miwa going upstairs with her bag to shower and arrange her things. They make it through her calling Tobio to ask for the vacuum then having him help out in dusting her room until it’s clean enough to sleep in, before making their way downstairs and learning to exist in each other’s orbits once again.

Tobio vaguely recalls weekends like this when they were younger - when Miwa still wasn’t in high school and still wasn’t busy enough with practice and other grown up stuff to stay and lazily pass a volleyball with him as his grandfather tutted and half-heartedly told them off for playing indoors.

They make it through the whole morning afterwards just sitting quietly on their sofa, the TV switched on to a sports channel at low volume as Miwa drifts in and out of sleep and Tobio sits on the other end with his knees folded up, flicking through one of the notebooks their grandpa used to write his coaching notes in.

When she’s finally fully awake again, the sun is already high up and Tobio has to reach for the remote of the A/C to turn it on for Miwa even if he feels cold through his sweatshirt.

“What do you want for lunch?” Tobio asks when his stomach grumbles. But what he really means is  _ How long are you staying this time _ ?

“Does the onigiri place still deliver?” She asks as she wipes the drool from her face.

He wonders how people can even like her when she looks this funny all the time. He recalls having to endure the fake cooing of boys who try to use him as a way to make Miwa like them.

Stupid.

They’re all so stupid.

“To?”

“Huh?”

“Does the onigiri place still deliver?”

Tobio nods before pulling his phone out to look for the number then pointedly shoving it at Miwa so she’ll make the call on their behalf.

“Call it,” Miwa says with a huff.

“No, it’s expensive.”

“You know I pay for your phone subscription, right?” Miwa mutters, rolling her eyes but dialing the number on her phone anyway.

She narrates their order, the usual ones they get when she’s here, emphasising the  _ three pieces of pork curry onigiri, please  _ while looking at Tobio with judgement when he taps her arm just to make sure she doesn’t forget.

“Kay, that’s solved. You wanna go with me to the store later to buy groceries? You only have milk and tofu.”

Tobio snorts despite himself.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

Miwa scowls at him. “Really.  _ What _ ?”

“Groceries?  _ You’re _ going to cook?”

“‘that a problem?” she asks loftily, crossing her arms against her chest. “I can cook.”

“Yeah, burned ones,” he snipes. He remembers gobbling down charred eggs that he didn’t know weren’t normal until Kiyoko-san fried eggs for them during camp and Tobio had looked around at the others wondering how they can eat the still white eggs. 

Then he had the realisation that his sister is probably a terrible cook.

He still cooks eggs the same way she did though. 

Not that he’ll tell her that.

She makes a noise in mock-outrage, throwing a pillow that lands directly in the middle of Tobio’s face despite the haphazard way she lobbed it at him.

She’s always been accurate with her tosses, Tobio thinks wryly.

He kicks her thigh in retaliation which is a wrong move because Miwa looks at him with genuine surprise for a whole second, as if she’s just  _ now _ remembering that Tobio usually fights back, before barking out a laugh and launching herself at him, hands reaching for his sides where he’s ticklish and attacking mercilessly.

“Stop!” He yells, trying to wrestle her off. “Nee, stop!”

“Say it first!” Miwa screeches in delight after a full three minutes of pure torture on Tobio’s end, dodging Tobio’s feet as he tries to kick her away and ignoring the growls of  _ stop _ he’s making. “Say it, Toto-chan!”

“NO!” Tobio chokes out in between helpless giggles, trying to bat her away to no avail. “ _ I won’t! _ ”

When she doesn’t relent, her eyes fierce and her grin already triumphant, Tobio just stops fighting because he’s never really won this round before.

“Fine!” He wheezes.

Miwa smirks at him, still tickling his sides.

“Those aren’t the magic words, brother mine,”

“This is  _ cheating _ !”

She double-downs on him.

“Fine!” Tobio shouts, slapping her arms away forcibly and trying to sit up. “FINE, you  _ WIN _ .”

Miwa makes an exaggerated noise of victory, folding her right arm high and patting her triceps with pride. “And Miwa wins again!” She yells before beaming down at where Tobio is sprawled on the sofa, other throw pillows all on the floor from their match. “Miwa 19, lil bro, 0 — you should remember,  _ To _ , sisters always w—”

Tobio glares at her, then sees her expression change as her gaze travels from his face to his forearm where the bruises are, to his stomach where another one is blossoming just above the hem of where his shirt has ridden up.

He rushes to cover them up but it’s too late.

Miwa bites through her lip and looks away, letting Tobio pull down his shirt and straighten himself, the only noise in the room is the hum of the a/c chugging on.

He should’ve just let her tickle him to death.

He knows that whatever Miwa’s about to say will ruin everything.

“I talked to your doctor,” Miwa says after a beat, looking back at him as if daring him to argue. He’s suddenly reminded of his grandfather on the rare occasions that he had to be firm with them - she looks so much like him. “I’ve also arranged for your test - the bone marrow biopsy one. We’re going on Monday.”

Bone marrow biopsy?  _ What does that mean? _

The chance to retort is taken away from him by the chiming of the doorbell — another thing Tobio had forgotten they had, and the subject is continuously brushed aside as they quietly prepared for lunch.

They make it about halfway through their food before Miwa places her half eaten onigiri down on her plate and clears her throat until he’s looking at her.

Tobio braces himself.

“Your doctor—”

“He’s not  _ my _ doctor.”

“—says that you can eat and drink whatever you want before your test but it’s best we don’t drink anything at least four hours before. Our schedule is at ten in the morning, so I don’t think we can have breakfast until after.”

Tobio’s brain is overflowing with questions, things like:

_ What is a, what did Miwa call it? A biopsy? _

_ What will happen? _

Things like:

_ Will it hurt? _

And

_ Will I be okay? _

Miwa must have seen it on his face - and for whatever it is that Tobio thought of her before, he’s both relieved and bitter that she seems to still know him even through his silence because she starts talking, tone so carefully objective that it reminds him of his coach a bit. It’s the same tone he employs when he talks to the team about strategy.

It’s the same voice she used when she explained to him what their grandfather had.

She tries to explain what the test meant. What will be done. But Tobio can see that she’s struggling about it too. As lost as he is.

“The doctor says they’ll draw out some marrow - the stuff in your bones? They need some samples so they can check if there’s something wrong with your blood.”

“From my  _ bones _ ?” Tobio asks after swallowing his bite of onigiri.

“Yeah, from here,” she says before twisting her body on her seat to gesture at her lower back with a hand before facing him again. “The doctor said you’ll have anaesthetic so it shouldn’t hurt.”

Anaesthetic.

Tobio thinks he might remember what that is from the days he visited his grandpa at the hospital.

“How about after?” He asks, his mind summoning the images of his grandfather being too tired to even stand up after one of his tests during the early days when he can still stay home. How he would still try to talk to Tobio only to fall asleep midway, pale and worn.

How he started to fade right before Tobio’s eyes.

“What do you mean?” Miwa asks.

“What about after? Will it hurt? What if something is really wrong with me?”

“You’re going to be okay,” she tells him, and she sounds so sure of it, Tobio wants to believe her. But.

“That’s not my question.”

Miwa sighs, then reaches forward to squeeze at his hand on the table before pulling back. “Whatever it is, however it hurts, I’m here. Okay, Tobio?”

“How long will you stay? Don’t you have class or work—”

“I’m  _ here _ ,” his sister says firmly, eyes gleaming with determination. “Don’t worry about it.”

*

And she was. There, that is. Just like she promised.

Miwa’s there when they go to the hospital Monday morning, the same one his grandfather was confined in. She’s there when they talk to the doctor, Tobio barely listening in as he idly looks at her shoes - it’s the same brand that their grandfather used to buy for them. The same brand she still buys for him now.

The doctor tells them in detail about what’s going to happen, and how, but Tobio lets Miwa do the listening and the talking for them because she’s his big sister.

Because she’s there.

There’s more chatter about the anaesthetic - something something topical; words that barely make any sense to Tobio.

Tobio only tries to focus back into the conversation when the doctor asks him if he has any questions, and Miwa grins at him fondly when all Tobio asks is if he can still play volleyball afterwards.

Miwa’s there when he was asked to lay on his side on the bed, his shirt tucked up to his chest.  _ Insisted _ to be there when the doctor asks which side he slept on then made him curl up on the opposite.

She sits on a chair next to where he’s lying on when something cold hits his skin, the smell of antiseptic assaulting his nostrils. The sensation is followed by the doctor rubbing something balm-like in the same place, the doctor’s voice calm and reassuring as he explains that it was anaesthetic.

“Try to keep as still as you can, okay?” The doctor says kindly from behind him after a few moments of waiting until Tobio feels like his entire back is swollen and numb.

She’s there when the aspiration really starts, his hand shooting out to grab onto hers when the sharp pain rips up his spine like fire, exploding in his head with a blinding whiteness.

For one infinite second, he’s shocked at just how  _ debilitating _ it is, drowning everything in its wake until there’s nothing else left in him. It feels like lightning striking his bones, a long line of static blazing in his ears.

Miwa clutches his hand as tightly as he’s clutching hers, doesn’t flinch away even when her smile is frayed at the edges.

She tells him how brave he is, how brave his little brother is. How proud she is of him.  _ I’m here. It’s okay. I’m here— _

There’s a moment of reprieve, then Tobio can  _ feel _ something hit his bone - the pressure increasing everywhere until every part of his body is on fire.

Tobio squeezes his eyes shut when there’s a sound of something grinding and something in his back twists - then the pain doubles, searing and ramping up until he all but writhes.

He thinks he might have cried out. Couldn’t help the high pitched whines that escaped through his mouth no matter how much he tried to keep them in because it just increases and increases  _ and increases _ .

Somewhere in between his fogged mind, he feels Miwa reaching out to him with her other hand, pushing his hair back and kissing his forehead drenched in sweat.

“ _ I’m here _ ,” she whispers when he feels tears leaking out of his eyes, her hand warm as it travels from his hair to his cheek. “You’re okay, Tobio. I’m sorry. I’m here. I promise.”

“Please,” he chokes out.

“It’s okay, To-chan,” she says, her voice cracking at his name when Tobio continues to cry. “It’s okay. I’m here.”

It lasts no more than thirty minutes, but Tobio remains prone, frozen on the bed for who knows how long just to wait for the pain to recede.

He thinks the doctor might be dressing his wound. That Miwa might be talking but his brain fizzes out, refusing to cooperate as it braces for another round that he hopes wouldn’t come.

She’s there when he finally regains some of his bearings, his face squished against her shoulder as the doctor gives them what he thinks might be other instructions. He’s dizzy from everything that just took place — thinks he might fall if she wasn’t keeping him outright and taking on his full weight. He doesn’t even remember sitting up.

He thinks he might still be crying.

That he hasn’t stopped crying, really.

“Do you think you’ll be okay to go home?” She hears her ask, his knuckles white around her fingers. And it must be painful for her but she doesn’t let him go. Hasn’t let him go since he reached out to her.

“We can make arrangements for him to stay overnight if you’d like although I believe that wouldn’t be necessary. You’re a brave one, aren’t you, buddy?”

Tobio ignores the doctor and curls himself closer to his sister.

“What do you think, Tobio?” She asks him, her breath fanning his cheek. “Do you want to rest here for a while?”

He wants to go home.

And they do.

She’s there when they slowly make their way to the taxi, his back still twinging at every movement. There when he passes out as the car winded through the hills, her arms wrapped securely around him, there when she carries him up the foyer like a child, his arms circling around her shoulders and letting him hide his face into her neck.

Miwa takes them directly into his room, not once complaining about how heavy he is. Not once letting him go until she can gently place him on his bed where he curls up and tightens his grip on her hand when she moves to step away.

“Don’t,” he croaks out. “Please.”

Miwa wipes at his face with her palms, and  _ oh _ , he might still be crying a little. “I’m here,” she whispers again for maybe the hundredth time that day. “I’m just gonna take off your shoes, okay?”

She waits for him to nod and Tobio reluctantly lets her hand go. She makes her way through his shoes, gently prying them off of him before she carefully changes his shirt, wiping his back with the old one and avoiding the gauze that’s stuck to where the extraction point was.

Tobio fades in and out of consciousness for what he thinks might be hours, but every time he opens his eyes, she’s there by his bedside, sitting on the floor and holding his hand in hers.

She might have gone downstairs because he’s sure she fed him something that tastes like miso from the small restaurant at the end of their street and he’s sure she must have fed him some of the pills the doctor prescribed to him.

“I’m here,” Miwa reassures him.

The next time he’s aware of things, it’s dark out and Miwa’s still there. She’s taken the old tatami from the closet, but she’s still upright, head pillowed on Tobio’s bed, her hand still loosely holding his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   * More information about [bone marrow biopsy](https://www.ouh.nhs.uk/patient-guide/leaflets/files/60513Pmarrow.pdf). The pain varies from person to person and is also dependent on the kind of anaesthetic applied beforehand. The descriptions I used above are from someone who I asked about this particular procedure and they said and I quote "it felt like getting hit by a truck".
>   * Me to my partner: "does X make sense?", partner to me: "for fuck's sake, aby, i'm not a hematologist." 
>   * Me to Goob: "can—", Goob to me: "I KNOW NOTHING".
>   * Here's where you can find me [having a very public meltdown on twitter](https://twitter.com/sbmrsv).
> 



End file.
